September 8th, 2014

Life lately.

I’m officially a freelance Visual Merchandiser, this past week, and this week I’ve been plotting and executing some great retail spaces in unitedbyblue's flagship store on North 2nd Street in Old City Philadelphia. 

I’ve also been spending more time at the farm, as my parent’s help me source, clean, build and create some of the props and furniture. They are essentially, my creative partners with all things in The Publishing House Company. In the barn, cutting wild and domestic grasses, exploring the architecture for possible events in the future. 

Percy, my Main Coon has been with me a couple weeks now, and he’s a hoot. Something out of a Dr. Suess book, he flips, flops dips, dives and jumps. He also sleeps, terrorizes Pippa, and loves to talk. 

My kitchen, at one time was my entire studio apartment, has now become half a planting/floral studio workspace, and half an office.

Anyway, keep up with my life via my twitter & instagram @tkowkat.

September 7th, 2014

I ran through the cemetery at 2am the other night, with a misfit group of gents. One gloriously reliving his adolescents, telling me we should act like kids and marvel at the quiet dark, at sneaking into the place where our dead rest. We held hands and walked in step with each other. 

One had kept sneaking glances to my lips throughout the night, I had painted them a deep red, and let them stain glasses that were sweating in the crowded bar. He revealed later that those kisses we shared 3 years ago probably weren’t enough. 

One other neither friend nor foe, but a rag tag-a-long with a bad history and a questionable accent. He kept trying to rest his hand on my leg while talking, until my direct refusal and later beratement did the trick. More like an icy glare, and a calling out. I will hold you accountable and refuse openly the liberties you believe you can take with me. No. 

I looked up at the moon, big and lush against the dark dark sky. I talked in rhymes and rhythms. Then I declared I wanted to go to the train station, and then walk the abandoned tracks down towards the park. 

The night ended falling asleep after laughter, and a wild jaunt around town. With the one I know the best crashing at my place, laughing at my cat, and sharing photos, new memories, old lovers and crushes. An understanding that comes from camaraderie, shedding our sexes to be companionably. 

 It feels nice to have friends who are a truly that, friends. 

From my journal, July 2014

September 2nd, 2014

Spending more and more time at the farm.

I’m excited to share that I’ve got some western riding lessons lined up on one of my mom’s greener horses. I’ve only ridden a couple trails in a western, but for the majority of my life I rode english, and trained in the English discipline. So, I’ll be learning a bit of a cross over and I’m rather excited. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

September 2nd, 2014

Pop Keegan has a Wolfsburg Edition Westfalia Syncro and he loves parking it everywhere on the farm, here she is camouflaged behind the privacy grass at the pool. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

September 1st, 2014

As of late.

Find me on the ‘gram @tkowkat

August 31st, 2014

I hold myself as accountable as him, all this time later. When I now realize I came in like a hurricane. No warning, with passion, and demands. Wreckage. He kept up quite well, tempered me down a bit. Then he just decided to let me go on the path of partnership alone.

I blame him. I blame him for giving me high hopes then never filling the potential. 

I want to cross him off the list of people who occupied my heart. I want to wipe the slate clean. No one loved me. 

No one loved me like the man from Georgia who was sweet as a sunshine and made me laugh and blush. Who threw axes, and howled at the moon. Who let me be as silly as I wanted. Who made me happy and proud, even though I was a very different girl. 

No one loved me quite like that boy who penned love notes via the internet, in a language that was so foreign to him. Who was quiet and tall and completely broken in being a romantic. And I broke it off with him, and wept in the bedroom from my lonely teen years. 

No one loved me quite like the boy who always followed me with his eyes, and his heart. Who never truly told me what he felt, but was soft and kind as I hustled from one place to the other.

No one loved me like the man who held my face each night, with his big scarred hands, looking at me with a bit of hurt telling me with a slight surprised tone that he thought I was pretty. And who with a slightly surprised tone told me he loved me for the next 9 months. Like each time he looked at me, he still loved me, maybe even a little more each time. 

I’m sorry, to all the men I’ve known, because in knowing, I knew I’d never love  half has much as they thought they loved me.

I learned that love isn’t just saying the words. He used the words like I used to use “Je ne se pas” in french lectures, a cure all. “I love you” wasn’t a balm over your neglect, or my desires. 

I was and am bewitched with the idea that there is solely one person that my happiness depends on. Before it was another, but it is me.

Now, I know if someone can make me nearly as happy as I can make myself, and I can make that someone nearly as happy as they make their self  then there in lies the beginning of something. 

Now, until then, I’ll just work on all the things that make me happy over here. 

August 26th, 2014

Dedication. 

I’m on instagram: @tkowkat 

August 24th, 2014

I’d like a lover to lay my hands upon. Not in ownership, but in praise.
I’d like a lover that sees stars in my eyes and fire in my soul.
I’d like a lover who is strong within himself and his desires.
I’d like a lover who doesn’t mind my occasional curses and laughs at my bad jokes.
I’d like a lover with a good heart who can hold his own with my mother.
I’d like a lover who can laze for hours, or go toe to toe on a project with me.
I’d like a lover that I can daydream about his mouth and hands. 
I’d like a lover to lay down next to in the evenings, and wake up intwined.
I’d like a lover to steal his shirts and find comfort in his scent with mine.
I’d like a lover who sees a woman, not a girl.
I’d like a lover who pushes and pulls. Who demands that I hold myself and him to a higher standard.

I’d like a lover who’s more than a lover. 

August 21st, 2014

The prettiest thing I ever did see, saving for a special occasion. 

August 21st, 2014

I did a small bit of yoga this morning on the beach, then I looked up and saw this. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

August 21st, 2014

I woke up this morning and went to the beach, except for the very sporadic walker, the beach felt like it belonged to me, and me to it.

From my instagram @tkowkat

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

August 18th, 2014

The college students are moving back into town, a mark that summer’s over. And… most of my friends have noticed I haven’t had any sort of fling or open attraction. A small mistaken attraction to a man with a soft looking mouth and a deep heart, severed quickly when I realized perhaps I was letting attraction rule over common sense. 

I suppose meeting the quarter century mark has come with some maturity. Or, I’ve already exhausted any thought of meeting a relatively hygienic, atheistically, intellectually and emotionally stimulating male. 

Six years in this town, many dates, many late night smooch sessions, many awkward first dates, and great other dates. Accidental arm touching, and purposeful butt squeezing. A couple boyfriends, a ton of friends.

Two summers in New York City, with lovely kind men, who are sweet on the eyes, and sweet on your lips. Many kind and beautiful friends to adventure with, to mistake and make memories with. A fall and winter in Philadelphia, mooning after raw denim clade men with long legs and hips that make me thing of tangled sheets. With bespectacled men who passed me on my lunch break in old city neighborhoods. A winter romance with a man who had scarred hands but an even more scarred heart, who held onto anger from 15 years prior. A light flirtation with a troubled soul who has found a direction but no sense of decision. 

I, I suppose, have given up storing my love and affection in men who aren’t substantial. I’m done attempting to build something with someone who doesn’t have the tools, nor the time. I won’t settle. 

I’m self sustaining. I flirt, and play witty talking games. I admire physique, and style. I admire mouths that tilt, and eyes that convey humor. I dodge sketchy situations, and tell off men who become too forward. I return to my bed alone. I have stopped hanging hopes on the moon. Handsome, charming, divinely attentive men. Oh, you champions of tricks. Speaking of my lush bottom lip, or how lovely the curve of my hips in the navy or black I wear. I tell my lust, settle, lay my hand over my heart. It’s not worth it, not worth letting someone really close to me, body and soul. A pledge that courage and strength in love is rewarding. 

I’m more interested in writing, or reading.  Spending time with friends who laugh and cheer, who dance and jest. Dating is asinine. It is obscene, and a fraud. Be friends with your lover, and if you can’t then why the hell are you with them?

A website dedicated to the things that inspire a young woman with a good head on her shoulders, an overactive imagination and a constant question on her mind: what kind of woman is she?